10
Nebula
There are places and times that belong in the realm of the truly magnificent. The animal park at night is one such example. Because of its seclusion, the sky is free from any light spilling over from a city and there is an indescribable darkness. Everything that can be seen is being illuminated by objects in space. With the barrier of the blue sky removed, one’s fragment of the world is free to take its place in the universe.
When the moon is not out, the darkness is especially profound. During these nights, it is difficult to see anything at all. One is provided with a glimpse of the night sky that is, usually, never seen. The constellations glow with a stunning brilliance. Within the constellations, deep space objects shine down upon the earth, their light traveling for thousands, sometimes millions, of years.
In the years that followed Hank’s departure, the image of the park on the night that Higgy and Hank had their midnight confrontation was etched in my everyday memory. I had been awestruck by the night and how dark, calm, and silent everything was. I began to look for any excuse to observe the chimps after the sun went down.
One night, when I was attempting to get a glimpse of the chimps through the darkness, I decided to aim my binoculars up at the night sky. I wanted to get a closer view of what, in space, was lighting my world on Earth. Through the binoculars, the points of light became more defined. In some cases, colors and shapes became apparent. The most amazing object I found was the Crab Nebula. At first it appeared as nothing more than a smudge in the sky. As I continued to stare at it, whether by imagination or perception, I was able to make out the colorful clouds of gases that comprised it.
The Crab Nebula was once a super-massive star. About seventy-five hundred years ago, the star exploded, creating a supernova. The light from the explosion did not reach the Earth until about a thousand years ago, when it was recorded by astrologers of the day. Today all that can be seen of the once-great star are its remnants: a stellar cloud of gas shaped like a crab. Within the cloud, the gases are coalescing together into clumps. Eventually these clumps will become new stars and new star systems. So when one views the Crab Nebula, one is not just observing the remains of a dead star, but also the beginning of new stars being born out of its remnants.
Sixty-five hundred light years away, the light of the nebula was hitting my binoculars. After a while, I put the binoculars down and looked over to the remnants of Higgy’s group. I could barely make out the unmistakable shape of Little Mama, sitting up, on top of a shelter. When my eyes focused and adjusted, Little Mama’s features became more apparent. The light from every object in space had filtered into the animal park, allowing me to see. The principles and mechanisms that operated what was in the sky were also operating what was surrounding me. Higgy’s group had collapsed. What remained of the group was in the process of forming new groups. The lexicon of calls from Higgy’s group was now having to take different forms—a form which would work for Hank and his new group, and a form which would work for the new version of Higgy’s group.
The calls of Higgy’s group had come from the fragments of other groups. Little Mama had brought the original lexicon over from the wild. Her doomed group, in Africa, had passed it on to her. She had spread it to Cindy, Higgy, Gin, and Elgin. They, in turn, had passed it throughout the group; each of them interjecting their own features, dictated by their own histories. This built the language of Higgy’s group. That language was now spread out like the gasses of a nebula cloud—forging the basis of Hank’s new communication system.
As I sat in the mud, Little Mama, who was sitting in the dim glow of the stars, lay down in the nest she had made at the top of the shelter. What Little Mama, her communication system, and the chimps that were using this communication system represented to me was not just a look into how chimpanzees communicate; rather, it was a look inside the inner workings of the universe, a glimpse of how things change and how change is accommodated.
The desire to see this change occur drove my determination to study and compare the calls of Higgy’s group and Hank’s group. What I wanted for this study was to be able to visualize what was going on vocally. If Hank’s calls were changing, I wanted to be able to actually see it and document it. In this, I would get a glimpse at the process which allows for a group of chimpanzees to live together and, in a broader sense, get a glimpse at how any social animal operates via certain laws; these laws being one small aspect of the hidden machine that operates the universe.
I felt something touch my back. I looked behind me to see a giraffe, silhouetted against the stars, towering over me. This giraffe, who frequently attempted to steal chimp food out of the back of my truck, had bent over and nudged me. I imagine he was looking for a late-night piece of fruit. I got up to walk over to the truck (one never wants to be stepped on or kicked by a giraffe). When I stood up, he backed away. I looked over at Little Mama, who now seemed to be sleeping, then back at the giraffe. The night sky shone down on the three of us; three different species occupying the same infinitesimal portion of the universe. Each of us three surviving this universe, whether we were conscious of it or not, by the same physical properties—the properties that operate biology on Earth, the physics of the universe, and the stars in the sky.
* * *
I began recording the vocalizations from Higgy’s group soon after Hank’s departure. My goal was to record and isolate phrases that were being repeated at different times within the same behavioral contexts. In this way, I hoped to discover not only the calls but also a bit about the meaning of the calls that they were using. This was going to be a difficult task. The most important part of this was to distinguish between the calls and to define the parameters which made each one unique. I could then attach a correlating behavior to the call and make my best guess as to the information it was trying to convey. At the end, I hoped to have a collection of vocal phrases that Higgy’s group was using and a corresponding meaning attached to each. In a sense, I was going to create a Rosetta stone for the group’s vocalizations. Once I did this, I would take recordings from Hank’s group and see if they were using the same phrases and if those phrases had changed at all due to the split. If, in fact, they had changed, I could make the case that Hank’s group was developing their own dialect.
The microphone I used looked like a large satellite dish. This microphone (called a parabolic microphone) was capable of picking up even the slightest whisper from far away. It was plugged into a laptop computer. I was able to listen to all of the sounds that the microphone was gathering through noise-canceling headphones (which were plugged into the laptop). I merely had to point the microphone in the general direction that the sound was coming from and the sound waves would enter into the large dish. They would then be transmitted into the computer, processed and recorded with sound-analysis software, and finally transmitted up through my headphones. I would then number the vocalization, list the individual producing it and the individual(s) receiving it, and jot down the behavioral context that was occurring when the call was made. Fortunately, Higgy’s group was very vocal. One needed to merely point the microphone toward any gathering of two or more chimps. The result would be an amazing recording of chimpanzees vocalizing back and forth. Even when the encounter seemed silent (I was standing away from them, across the canal), the parabolic microphone would reveal a myriad of soft calls. The effect was similar to pointing binoculars up to a seemingly empty portion of the night sky, only to find a host of stars through the lens.
After years of recording the chimps, I had to analyze them. I did so by creating spectrograms out of each vocalization. Remember that a spectrogram is a visual depiction of a sound, providing such data as the duration of the entire sound, the amplitude (or energy/volume) of the sound, the structure of the sound,127 the frequency of the sound waves (or pitch), and how much amplitude each sound wave is being given. For example, a traditional chimpanzee loud call, structured with an introduction, buildup, climax, and descent looks on a spectrogram like a series of smudges. The first smudges (the introduction) look like evenly spaced blobs of the same shade. The next series of smudges (the buildup) look, again, like evenly spaced blobs; only this time, they get progressively darker (representing a buildup of amplitude, or volume) and progressively higher on the graph (representing an increase in frequency, or pitch). The climax appears like a massive dark blob (representing a loud sound that incorporates many different frequencies). The descent looks like a reverse of the buildup, with the smudges getting lighter and lower. The resulting spectrogram is a complete description of a sound represented by one picture.
When I had all of the calls converted to spectrograms, I printed them out, laid them on the floor, and looked for patterns. Then, without looking at anything else, I grouped the spectrograms together that looked alike. Some of them didn’t look like any of the others, so those were set aside. When I was done, I had my first initial grouping of the calls. This, however, was not enough for me to be able to identify each grouping as a chimp “phrase” or “word.”
Next, I had to look at the behaviors associated with the calls. With some of the groupings, all (or most) of the calls had the same general behavioral contexts occurring. These groupings were able to remain in consideration. Other categories had several different behaviors. These groupings were taken away. I was left with fewer categories, but more defined groupings. However, this still wasn’t enough for me to make the determination that what I was looking at were truly chimp phrases.
Next, I needed mathematical justification. This would be the hardest criteria for each category to pass. If the categories didn’t have any statistical cohesion, then they would be discounted. To do this, I took the numeric data from each phrase. This included the duration of the call, the duration of each call element, the three loudest frequencies (or pitches) of each element, the mean frequency of the entire call, and the amount of time it took for each element to reach its peak amplitude (or loudest point). Since I was comparing different units of measurement (seconds of time and hertz of frequency), I had to standardize the data with a formula that converted each measurement into a geometric distance. I was then able to statistically cluster the data together. I was surprised to see that, more often than not, the categories that I had created visually and behaviorally held together mathematically as well. Though I had to put aside hundreds of vocalizations, I was able to definitively arrive at twenty-five vocal phrases that Higgy’s group was reliably using. I then set out to define each phrase by the corresponding behaviors, the relationship between the sender and receiver(s), the contexts in which the call was produced, and the intensity of the vocalization. I used this to compile a “phrase book” for Higgy’s group.
So here, without further wait, are the behaviorally, spectrally, and statistically defined vocal phrases that Higgy’s group was using:128
“Hallelujah!”: This call was produced by almost every chimp in the group during times of positive excitement. This included seeing zookeepers bring treats and watching an impressive (and nonaggressive) solo display by another chimp. The call itself was a series of equally spaced barks occurring at the same pitch.
“I need help.”: This occurred when a lower-ranking individual appealed to a higher-ranking individual for some sort of assistance (dealing with another chimp’s aggression, help with bringing hay and branches up to the top of a shelter, etc.). The call was a short series of low-pitched yelps.
“Come here!”: This call, most likely, had its origins with Cindy and was acquired by Higgy at an early age. It is a raspberry sound. It always occurred when a dominant individual was aggressively trying to summon another individual. Both Cindy and Higgy used this vocalization almost exclusively. Frequently it was used toward the zookeepers.
“I am in control and there is no need to worry.”: This was mostly a Higgy call, but was also occasionally used by Gin and Cindy. The call would occur after a tense situation (aggression, a chimp being hurt, etc.). The call would be directed at no one in particular. It is the only phrase which contains all the elements: an introduction, a buildup, a climax, and a descent.
“Look at me.”: This call would be heard when one individual was attempting to get the attention of another individual (or group of individuals). The call would always be accompanied by exaggerated gestures, such as slapping the ground or an object. The vocalization started with an introduction, followed by a buildup and a climax with no descent.
“Everything is going to get better.”: This was given during times of reassurance. This call was most often seen given by mothers, directed at their juveniles. Occasionally it was uttered when food was arriving on the island—again, given by a mother to her offspring. The call featured a long quiet buildup with a very short climax that stopped abruptly.
“Prepare yourselves!”: This call was produced in anticipation of something profound (a big fight brewing, food arriving, the veterinarian arriving, etc.). It was always produced during highly excitable times and would draw responses from most everyone else in the group. This call began with a short buildup and concluded with a loud, long, and high-pitched climax.
“Please stop.”: This was a defensive call given when an individual was being attacked by another. The associated behaviors indicated that this call functioned as a plea rather than a defensive threat. It began with a screaming climax and ended with a descent.
“Let’s fight!”: This call always anticipated a physical confrontation. The call was very long in duration and contained a buildup, a climax, and a descent. It usually occurred as two individuals circled each other.
“I found food!”: This was most often heard when a chimp found a hidden treat somewhere on the island. When it was uttered, all of the other chimps would come running to investigate. It would also be used when the zookeepers were spotted in the distance. It was a high-pitched-sounding buildup with a mild climax and a short descent.
“I am so sick of you attacking me.”: This tantrumlike call was wild and violent, given by low-ranking individuals who were constantly being attacked by higher-ranking individuals. Contextually, the buildup, climax, and descent call appeared to be both an expression of frustration and a quick act of surrender.
“Mom!”: This was used by juveniles calling out for their mothers. Anytime this call was heard, the mothers would respond quickly. The entirety of the buildup, climax, and descent were very loud and very high pitched.
“You have disobeyed me.”: When this call was given (almost always by Higgy), the receiver would cower. The buildup, climax, and descent were always accompanied by aggressive gesturing (stomping and hitting the ground). However, it was never followed by a physical altercation.
“We’re about to eat!”: This was always yelled when food was being placed around the island. It contained only a quick buildup.
“Mom, come back!”: This highly intense call was always used by juveniles when their mothers would walk away from them. It was frequently heard from Bamboo when Tonic would leave him. He would follow a very long buildup with an extremely violent and long climax.
“Mom, I’m hungry.”: This call was uttered by juveniles to their mothers when they would either want to nurse or eat something that the mother was holding. It was a soft vocalization which contained both a buildup and a climax. There was a variation (which I counted as another vocal type) which was the exact same vocalization, but in reverse (a climax, then a descent). The frequencies, durations, and contexts were the same.
“Stop it!”: This call was just a loud short climax and occurred when an individual was being hassled by another individual (usually a juvenile responding to another juvenile).
“I need to be groomed.”: This was a plea to be groomed. Most of the time it was followed by a grooming session. On a few occasions, Elgin would use this to ask one of the females to groom him. However, he was usually rejected. It was a very low-pitched vocalization which contained a buildup, a climax, and a descent.
“I’m happy with you.”: Used exclusively by Higgy, this call was given to other individuals when he would offer them reassurances (grooming, touching, etc.). He would produce a calm buildup, with a mild climax, then follow it with a very quiet descent.
In addition to these phrases, there were also two distinct “mating vocalizations” (given by females when they mated with Higgy) and three distinct “display vocalizations” (given during wild solo displays and not directed at anyone in particular). One of the display vocalizations was exclusively done by low-ranking individuals like Elgin.
All twenty-five phrases were noticeably distinct in sound and the associated specifics of behavior. After identifying them, I would be able to pick them out in Higgy’s group. It became fascinating to listen for them and try to almost discern a conversation.
2006
Chicago, Illinois
Prime sat alone on a tree branch, dangling his feet. The only other members of his group that were outside with him were Kathy and Chuckie. However, they were on the other side of the exhibit. After a few minutes, they got up and walked inside to sit with Hank and Nana. In the two years since leaving the animal park, Prime had become a bit of an outcast from the rest of the group. Hank seemed to have little time for him, Nana didn’t seem to like him, and the other four stayed to themselves. This left him without an ally or playmate.
Inside, the rest of the group sat together. Kathy and Kipper had plopped themselves beside Cashew and Chuckie, who were napping. Nana was silently grooming Hank, who was leaning against a Plexiglas wall. Behind the wall, guests of the Lincoln Park Zoo were watching, pointing, and tapping on the glass. Behind the guests were information stands, complete with interactive video screens and a giant twenty-foot photograph of Higgy’s face. The picture of Higgy was placed directly in front of Hank’s enclosure. A photographer from Chicago had taken the picture back when it was initially decided that Hank was going to be moved there. He had come to take pictures of the incoming group, but couldn’t resist a picture of the magnificent-looking alpha male. The picture turned out so well that it became the centerpiece of the new ape house. There were few places within the exhibit that Hank or any of the other chimps could go to avoid Higgy’s stare.
I stood in front of Prime with my microphone. I was in an outdoor observing area of the ape house. I was frustrated. None of the chimps were making any calls at all. I had been there for two days and had only recorded one half of a distorted call. The reason I only got half of the call is that I had begun to doze off. The start of the call shook me awake and I quickly hit record on the computer. As soon as I began recording the call stopped. I didn’t even have enough time to see which chimp had produced it.
Surrounding me were zoo guests who were paying more attention to the giant microphone than the chimps. From my vantage point, in addition to Prime, I could see the chimps inside and, beyond them, the giant Higgy head. The reason I stationed myself outside, in this area, was to keep the acoustics in the recording as similar as possible. Any sort of echo or reverberation could have an effect on the data I was collecting.129 Therefore, I measured out a certain location outside, away from the chimps, which would mirror the distance of where I stood when I was recording Higgy’s group. For this reason, I found myself in the middle of the puzzled-looking crowd, pointing a parabolic microphone at a group of completely silent chimpanzees.
The tediousness of waiting for the chimps to vocalize was becoming more unbearable by the minute. I passed the time looking around me and observing the zoo guests. I was tempted to point the parabolic microphone toward different groups of people and eavesdrop on their conversations, but the fear of missing another vocalization kept me from doing this. Just as I was about to doze off again, I heard a raspberry sound. I turned around, expecting to see Hank. Surprisingly, I saw that it came from Prime, who was still sitting on his tree branch. The raspberry sound, or “Come here!” (as I have it in my phrase book), was only used by Higgy and Cindy at the animal park. Because it was a dominant call, it would make sense for Hank to use it. Also, the call had originated with his mother. The fact that a low-ranking individual was using such a call immediately represented a change in its usage.
I began recording and tried to discover the context in which Prime was using this call. The call, it seemed, was being directed toward Nana, who had just walked outside and was directly under Prime. This call, which broke the silence, began an entire series of calls. Having compiled my phrase book, I began to listen for anything familiar. What I witnessed was an incredible exchange.
Prime continued to vocalize this raspberry sound to Nana.
“Come here!” was the message he was sending.
Nana completely ignored Prime. She continued to walk, keeping her eyes forward. She found a piece of lettuce on the ground and began to eat it.
Prime began acting incensed. He began slapping the tree branch with his hand and calling out a distinctive introduction, followed by a buildup and climax.
“Look at me,” he expressed to Nana.
Nana looked up and began posturing at Prime by standing up on two legs and swaying her arms back and forth.
“Let’s fight!” she conveyed with a call.
At this, Prime leapt off the tree branch, landing on Nana. The two chimpanzees rolled around and produced garbled and unintelligible vocalizations. Finally, Nana pinned Prime and bit him in the leg.
“Please stop,” he transmitted to Nana through a screaming climax and descent call.
Nana let him go and the two chimps separated. Nana returned inside and Prime climbed back up to his branch.
I looked over at Hank. The alpha male had stood up and was monitoring the situation. His behavior was noticeably different from how he had acted at the animal park. He appeared calmer and more in control. He didn’t feel the need to charge Prime and Nana. He allowed them to work it out on their own, but was at the ready in case it got out of control. It instantly reminded me of Higgy. From behind Hank, the gigantic poster of his old alpha male’s stare was a looming presence. It made me think that, in some way, Higgy was being channeled through Hank and was still in charge of this group.
Finally, I had recorded actual vocalizations from Hank’s group. The rest of my recording sessions in Chicago went much more smoothly. Similar exchanges continued to happen. In addition, the Lincoln Park staff would record and document the calls after I left. Because of this, I was able to collect a full survey of vocalizations.
2006
Boca Raton, Florida
The halls of Florida Atlantic University’s anthropology department were covered with spectrogram printouts. On the floor were twenty-five piles, each one representing the phrases used in Higgy’s group. Across from these piles, laid out in a straight line, were all of the spectrograms from Hank’s group. I began the tedious process of visually, behaviorally, and mathematically sorting through them. Each one could be placed into one of Higgy’s twenty-five categories, be put into a new category, or thrown out altogether.
The process was almost identical to the way I had originally classified Higgy’s calls, except, this time, I already had twenty-five predetermined phrases. In order for the call to officially belong to any one phrase, it had to meet the same standards: it had to be visually structured the same way, it had to be within a similar behavioral context, and it had to statistically cluster together with the others. The sorting revealed that Hank’s group was recorded using fifteen of the twenty-five phrases that Higgy’s group was using:
“Hallelujah!”
“I need help.”
“Come here!”
“I am in control and all is well.”
“Look at me.”
“Prepare yourselves!”
“Please stop.”
“Let’s fight!”
“I found food!”
“I am so sick of you attacking me.”
“Mom!”
“You have disobeyed me.”
“We’re about to eat!”
The recordings also revealed them to be using two of the three solo display calls (one of which was the low-ranking display).
Ten of Higgy’s phrases were never recorded in Hank’s group. That is not to say that these never occurred, just that they were never witnessed. These were:
“Everything is going to get better.”
“Mom, come back!”
“Mom, I want to eat.” (variations 1 and 2)
“Stop it!”
“I need to be groomed.”
“I’m happy with you.”
Hank’s group was also never recorded using two of the solo display calls. In addition, none of the females ever used either of the mating calls.
Hank’s group also added some new phrases (or, at least, phrases that were never recorded in Higgy’s group). These calls seemed to be completely vocally distinctive, so it would be unlikely that they were variations on other calls. In all, there were five phrases that were unique to Hank’s group:
“Calm down.”: This occurred when one individual was reacting to another’s aggression. The call, which had a buildup and descent but no climax, was a bit out of the ordinary from any of the others.
“A special treat!”: This call was only given when in close proximity of a zookeeper. It always occurred when a zookeeper was up close giving a special treat to the individual. The call consisted of only a quiet descent.
“Please give me.”: This call was also only seen in close proximity of a zookeeper. It occurred when a zookeeper held something that the chimp wanted. It contained a buildup, climax, and descent.
There were also two solo display calls which were repeated often and were completely distinct from the display calls of Higgy’s group.130
I sat back and looked at the data that I had so far. Seeing which phrases were being repeated versus the phrases that were not being used was beginning to make clear how these vocalizations functioned. What was especially interesting were the offspring-to-mother phrases that had not been witnessed within Hank’s group. I began to think about this in relation to the change in environment. Higgy’s group lived on a series of large islands, surrounded by other groups of chimpanzees. Hank’s group now lived in a more tightly secure area without any competing chimp groups in sight. It would stand to reason that the juvenile chimpanzees would feel far safer being apart from their mothers in the Lincoln Park exhibit, rather than in the open expanse of the animal park. For this reason, I hypothesized that there wouldn’t be the immediate need for a phrase as “Mom, come back!” This setting also explains why reassuring phrases such as “Everything is going to get better” and “I’m happy with you” wouldn’t be used as much. The increased sense of security and the lessening need for reassurances may also account for the disappearance of “I need to be groomed.” The smaller group, and the more control that zookeepers had on food distribution at the Lincoln Park Zoo, could have accounted for “Mom, I’m hungry” to vanish. Finally, the social dynamics of the juveniles had changed considerably since they were at the animal park. There were now two quiet cousins, an outcast juvenile male, and an adolescent female. Before, there had been a wild array of juveniles at the animal park. This change would lead to less bickering and, thus, would be the reason “Stop it!” would have been lost.
I began to think of this in terms of human language and human dialect. So much of what we say is a product of its functionality in relation to our environment. Different social environments require different words and phrases. A different abundance of resources demands different ways to ask for our basic needs. When these things change, so do our dialects. In the same way, we add phrases when we encounter new situations and new environments. Hank’s group had added two phrases specifically geared toward the new situation of having increased interaction with human zookeepers (“A special treat!” and “Please give me”). The new social dynamics of Hank’s group demanded a new form of an all-important vocalization (“Calm down”).
Now it was time to concentrate on the fifteen phrases from Higgy’s group that Hank’s group was using regularly. In order to accomplish this, I used the same numeric data that I had used to group the vocalizations (the duration of the call, the duration of each call element, the three loudest frequencies of each element, the mean frequency of the entire call, and the amount of time it took for each element to reach its peak amplitude). For each comparison, I would statistically determine if Hank’s group was vocalizing differently than Higgy’s group.131 So, for example, when I compared “You have disobeyed me,” I first compared the duration of the entire call. I found that there was no significant difference. I then compared the mean frequency of the entire call. Again, I found no significant difference. After this, I took each element of the vocalization (the buildup, climax, and descent) and compared the top frequencies, the time it took for each element to reach its peak amplitude, and the general duration of the element. In all cases, “You have disobeyed me” was found to be statistically identical. I then came to the conclusion, for this phrase, that Hank’s group was vocalizing identically to Higgy’s group.
When I had finally compared all of the vocalizations within all fifteen phrases, the results were remarkable. Seven of the fifteen phrases had shown a statistical difference in at least one comparison. The other eight phrases were being produced by Hank’s group identically to how Higgy’s group was producing them. The differences were slight and usually in just one area. However, this was enough to show that the calls of Hank’s group and the calls of Higgy’s group were beginning to diverge from each other. Both groups were now on their own separate evolutionary paths. Both groups were adjusting their calls to fit their situations. The phrases that were showing differences were:
“I need help.”: The duration of the call with Hank’s group was significantly longer. Everything else remained identical.
“I am in control and all is well.”: Hank’s group had a longer buildup element to this call.
“Prepare yourselves!”: Again, the buildup of this call was longer when anyone in Hank’s group was producing it.
“Let’s fight!”: This phrase had the most dramatic change. The entire pitch of this phrase was much lower with Hank’s group. Also, like the others, the buildup was longer.
“I found food!”: The buildup element was considerably longer with Hank’s group.
“Mom!”: All elements, except the buildup, were shortened with Hank’s group.
Lastly, the low-ranking solo display in Hank’s group had a shorter buildup but longer climax.132
I looked at my data and thought about the reason each change had occurred. In humans, a change in social leadership affects the dialect because, phonetically, everyone begins subconsciously mimicking the leader, with the individual idiosyncrasies of the leader’s speech becoming common to everyone within the group. I went back to the piece of evidence for this occurring within Hank’s group—the raspberry phrase, “Come here!” I am guessing that Hank picked the phrase up from his mother. The fact that everyone in the group was now using it regularly, while the phrase in Higgy’s group was relegated to Cindy and Higgy, may have meant that Hank had influenced the others into using the phrase. Other changes may have been due to Hank’s individual phonetics that the others were now copying.
The stress of the separation and move may have led to such changes. As we know from human phonetic studies, anxiety affects speech. If the affect goes on long enough, the change will remain within the group. Such an affect could have occurred within Hank’s group.
Whatever the reason, Hank’s group was beginning to sound different from Higgy’s group. This fact had, all at once, shown that chimpanzees develop dialects. Successive generations of Higgy’s group and Hank’s group would continue to build and change their dialects. In time, the two groups would be unintelligible to each other. This fact, to me, defines chimpanzee vocal communication as a language.
So there it was. After years of recording, weeks of analysis, and nights of sorting through spectrograms, I had my answer. Chimpanzees have vocal phrases which are unique from group to group. These phrases evolve through the development of dialects. These dialects are based upon the ecological situations that a group finds itself in. Phrases get added, dropped, and changed based on their social and ecological functionality.
At some point, the dialect of Higgy’s group had begun its own evolutionary journey. Each of the individuals had influenced that dialect over the years. However, where had that original dialect started? Did it begin with Higgy’s group, or did it have its origins before that? How far back had it gone? I began to think about the individuals making up Higgy’s group. Who brought to the group this unique and highly complex system of calls that they were using? Did it have a connection to a dialect being used in the wild? I began to wonder where that original seed had come from; what had been the foundation of the dialect they were using? I jumped in my car and drove out to the animal park. I needed to see Little Mama.
2006
Loxahatchee, Florida
It was almost as if Little Mama was waiting for me; as if she knew I had just found out the answer to a great riddle that she had authored decades before. She sat at the edge of the canal, looking like a sage with her familiar burlap sack around her head. I stepped out of my car, sinking my feet into the muddy ground. Little Mama stood up and held up her hand. She opened her mouth and grunted happily. I threw her a banana. Before she could get to it Gin ran down and snatched it away. She sat down beside Little Mama and ate it. Seeing that food was being thrown, Cindy approached the other two. She sat down, clapped her hands, and stared at me. Higgy walked over from the other side of the island. Behind him, shaking as he walked, was Elgin. The two male chimps gathered around the other three. All five stared at me.
What I had seen in my phrase book, and in the spectrograms, were images of something that had taken over seventy years and traveled halfway around the world for me to see. It began its journey when a little chimpanzee was captured in Africa, thrown into a burlap sack, and brought to the United States. Over the last seventy years it had been changed and distorted by the gravity of big events: other chimpanzees, new places, and civil wars. It existed in a stable form for many years. Finally, it fragmented and split; a new group now using its remnants as the seeds of its own system.
I imagined Little Mama’s group in Africa. I pictured them using the phrases I had come to know by heart. I thought of her group being destroyed at the hands of humans. Yet, the group lived on. They were heard within the calls of Higgy’s group. They were echoed throughout the ape house of the Lincoln Park Zoo. No poacher or animal broker could ever stop the sort of perpetuity that is dictated by nature, biology, and the physical laws of the universe. It exists despite us. It is the great earthly eternal and it is more magnificent than any trick we can teach an animal to perform.
Twelve hundred miles away from Little Mama, Hank’s group was huddled together. They would communicate in order to build new alliances, create new strategies, comfort each other, reprimand each other, and enjoy each other. This would all be based on a system of communication, a chimpanzee language, that had come from across the ocean, half a century before any of them were born. Little Mama’s father, the old alpha male from the Jong River, lived again within Hank’s calls to Nana. Little Mama’s mother, the young female, lived again when Cashew called to Chuckie.
Going back even further, Little Mama’s mother and old alpha male were echoing previous generations of chimpanzees. Within their phrases they were channeling an unthinkably long lineage of chimp calls that have evolved with each successive age. Each generation etched their own imprint within the language; an imprint recalling their own history, their own periods of stress, their own periods of happiness, their own periods of peace, their own periods of war, their own periods of tragedy, and their own social hierarchies. The lexicon of calls that were being made by Little Mama, and propagated by Higgy and Hank, was a complete phonetic record, hidden from view but there all the same, of a large and vast story of an ancient legacy of chimpanzees.
Seeing that I had no more food, the other chimpanzees walked away. Little Mama remained in front of me. I watched her as she watched me. After all of the research, it became more apparent to me than ever that Little Mama was the incarnation of overlooked magnificence. She was the nebula that we can’t see because of the city lights. She was the carefully constructed ant mound that we run over with the lawn mower. She was the summer rainstorm that we run inside to avoid. She was the talking chimpanzee that we never hear. She was the miracle that we miss while we create the myths.
That which is below corresponds to that which is above, and that which is above, corresponds to that which is below.
—THE EMERALD TABLET OF HERMES TRIMEGISTUS